Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to JK Rowling.

Draco Malfoy was whistling cheerily to himself as he strolled out of the Leaky Cauldron and into the bustle that was Diagon Alley at Christmastime. Normally, returning to work after lunch wasn't cause for excitement, but it was Christmas Eve, and his good nature was being aided by the healthy dose of firewhiskey he'd consumed with his meal. It was the perfect amount: just enough to make him feel heady and sublime all over, but not so much that he was stumbling over his own feet.

No, today was a good day! And returning to Flourish and Blotts to finish payroll sounded splendid! Even going over next week's schedule with his head of staff, pain-in-the-arse Hermione bloody Granger, would be a delight! Neither his stride nor his whistled tune was broken as he entered his recently acquired bookstore and shot off a brisk wave to the witches who were closing down the front of the shop. In fact, both remained uninterrupted until he entered his office and was rewarded with the sight of a round, ample bottom encased in a charcoal grey pencil skirt.

His whistle lowered into a catcall. Hastily, the woman who was bending over his chair straightened, and revealed herself as none other than bloody Granger herself. Draco allowed his eyes to travel up and down her curvaceous body in a truly lecherous manner before asking, "To what do I owe the pleasure of such a spectacular view of your sweet little arse today? Is it my Christmas present?"

Granger looked scandalized for a brief moment, but quickly became defensive. "While my arse may be sweet, you and I both know that it's not little, so let's drop the pretenses, shall we? I was just waiting for you… So we could check the schedule, you know, before I leave for the day," she said coolly, which was a direct contradiction to her disheveled appearance.

Draco assumed that her slightly flustered behavior was due to his overwhelming sexiness. He smirked. "Are you sure that's the real reason you're here?" he asked seductively.

Something unidentifiable flashed in her eyes for a second. He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Of course that's why I'm here!" she snapped. "See, we're closed for New Year's Eve and New Year's Day, but the day after is usually busy, so I've got everyone scheduled." She gestured at a sheet of parchment on his desk. "Good? Good. Now, I've really got to get going. Not all of us rely on house elves to prepare Christmas dinner, you know," she ended disparagingly.

"Ah, Granger, I suppose you're right. You have some fire-crotch Weasley to cook for, no doubt." Draco's smirk became more pronounced as Granger's cheeks tinged with crimson. "How is dear Ronald these days?"

Her blush deepened. "Ron is doing well, not that you actually care. And for your information, he's dating Luna Lovegood, and I'm seeing… Somebody else. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important things to do than to stand here hashing out my love life with you!" She made to shove past him, and as she did, something fell out of her skirt pocket and clinked on the floor.

Draco's hand darted out to grab it, but Granger beat him to it. Apparently his Seeker reflexes had been impaired by the firewhiskey, but it was no concern to him. After all, he wasn't a wizard for nothing. "Accio," he said smartly.

A small vial whizzed out of her grasp and into Draco's waiting hand. He turned slightly, holding it just out of her reach. "And what do we have here?"

"It's nothing for you to worry about! Give it back right now, Draco Malfoy!" she demanded, looking positively panic-stricken.

He chuckled and held the vial up to the light, examining the contents. Three individual strands of hair were inside. Three platinum blond strands of hair. He turned back to her slowly, his eyes lighting up. "My hair, Granger?"

Her face was even redder yet. "Don't be stupid. Of course it's not your hair," she spat unconvincingly.

"I think it is. What could you possibly be doing with three strands of my hair? Are you brewing Polyjuice potion?" he asked, barely masking his glee at catching her doing something so clearly inappropriate.

Granger made an unintelligible sound. She began shuffling backwards toward the door, muttering, "I'll just be on my way…"

Draco's smile widened. "I don't think so." With a wave of his wand, the door slammed shut. Another flick, and a chair had knocked her legs out from under Granger, forcing her to sit. She clutched the armrests in desperation. There was no concealing her agitation.

Circling her chair like a bird of prey, Draco clucked his tongue in mock disappointment. "I could call the Ministry right now. Who knows what terrible things you may be planning to do while in my body?" he mused.

"Damn it, Malfoy! There's no need for that," she grumbled. "I promise you that no harm was intended!"

He stopped in front of her and stared into her worried eyes for a moment. "If not harm, then what exactly was your intention?"

Squeezing her eyes shut against his gaze, Granger sighed loudly. "I really, really would prefer not to tell you. Please, just believe me that I'm telling the truth about not causing harm?"

He casually leaned back against the edge of his desk. "But how can I be sure? I don't know if your word is enough. Perhaps if I used Veritaserum? Or Legilimency? Of course, then I would have access to whatever information I wanted… Unless there's something you want to tell me?" Draco grinned wickedly at her obvious discomfort.

A moan of desperation escaped her lips. "I was just going to use it… the potion… for fun. A Christmas present."

Now he was getting somewhere. "What you mean to say is that you were planning on using my body as a Christmas present," he clarified.

Staring down at her hands, which were now resolutely clasped in her lap, she nodded.

Draco's trademark smirk dominated his features. "I see. And were you planning to be the one giving or receiving said gift?"

Granger's hands flew up to cover her face. "Both," came the muffled reply.

He contemplated that for a moment. Granger wanted to borrow his body for some sort of wild sexcapades. He couldn't decide if that was sexy, or if it was disturbing. He needed more information. "Who's your partner in crime?"

She let out another mournful sound.

Choose your own ending!

For a sweet, unexpected PG ending, proceed to Chapter 2.

For glorious smut, proceed to Chapter 3.